A Different View
by Lenny13
Summary: A newly borne vampyre. A man dressed in tweed. A slayer. What if the story wasn't in the point of view of the Slayer or one of the Scooby Gang? Written by Maniac. An OC Character.


**Disclaimer: This is not my story!!!!**

**A/N This story has been written by Maniac. Warning, mild and implied violence.**

The dirt was still beneath his fingers, gritty and irritating. Made no difference though, if he took the time to clean it out he was gone....

Dust on the wind. Hiding behind the wall was the best he could do....

She was out there. Somewhere. Stalking him.

Him.

It was a joke.

Here he was an unnatural predator, a demon given flesh, ruler of the night.

Scared to soiling himself.

Soil. He grinned at his own pun. He was covered in it. The dirt from his own gravesite was in his hair, under his clothes, ground into his skin.

Ripping his way out of the coffin was bad enough, but dragging himself though six feet of Southern Californian soil was an experience he was not going to forget any time soon. Soil.

In hindsight going after the first mortal he saw may not have been the best idea. Apparently while "creature of the night" was not in his pre-risen vocabulary, others were more experienced in such things....

The look of the man in the tweed jacket screamed English Lit major to him and thus easy pickings, but this was not to be! The cross that was shoved in his face had made that clear, the burn of the water flung upon him re-enforced the feeling that this was not going the way he had envisaged. He had backed away, the pain too much to bear. The water, It ran like molten lava across his skin. It sizzled like oil on a hot skillet. It burned where it touched him. What sort of man carried acid on him this potent? The Holy Cross he recoiled from, as if by instinct.

It hurt his eyes when he looked at it..... but the hunger was still there. He could hear the man's pulse, the sound of blood moving through the arteries sounded like water gushing through pipes...... but it was elusive- out of reach.

The fluids container was empty and the tweed wearing meat sack was dragging yet another confounded device from that volumous apparel - a stake! A wooden bloody stake! He started to look around, wondering if there was a sign pinned to his chest that read, simply "Vampyre - Holy Water, Cross and Insert Wooden Stake Here" (with a little X of course).

This was ridiculous.

He needed to get away; he was weak and recently borne. He needed to feed but this was getting too hard already.

He fled into the night, the bookish type calling for help - who the hell is Muffy? There had been no dog there, had there?

The wall stopped the wind from pulling at his clothes. Hopefully it also stopped his stalker from finding him.

No such luck. He could feel it getting closer - like a nagging feeling just below the chest.

The click click click of high heels were getting closer and closer.

He thought about his options - Fight or Flight.

Weak as a kitten (I could go a whole litter he thought) the Fight part was, at best, a last stand. The Flight maybe as futile....

"Bad Boys, bad Boys, What ya gunna do, what ya gunna do when they come for you..."

The song started playing on a tinny speaker nearby. The footfalls stopped. A rustle of clothing and a sound of plastic...

"Xan, whats the problem?" A girls voice.

A young girls voice? Oh come on, tell me I am not hiding from a teeny bopper - almost forgetting his fear he peers over the edge of the wall.

A teenager, about 17, blond and athletic in slacks and a singlet top, stood there with a mobile phone pressed against her ear, engrossed by the conversation.

"She's done what? With who? When? Where? Slow down..." Lost in the conversation she had turned her back on him.....

He readied himself to spring, all the time a small voice screamed at him that this was something more, a force of nature, his equal, no, his superior. This was no mere young thin female this was a ... his subconscious sought out the name.. it was there embedded in his very core... a name to fear ... a name to run from...

But the hunger was too strong and he soundlessly launched himself across the grass at her...

Time slowed...

The phone dropped... she turned.

The name came to him as he looked into the very eyes of hell.....

Slayer.

**A/N Please tell us what you think**


End file.
